


Bickering Like

by flameslikeanything



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon - Book, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Shading the miniseries aesthetics just a tiny bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 09:41:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20794568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flameslikeanything/pseuds/flameslikeanything





	Bickering Like

Aziraphale looked up as the shop bell jingled, ready to manifest the illusionary odor of a decaying rodent somewhere in the ancient brick wall, but it wasn’t, thank Goodness, a customer.

“Hallo, angel,” Crowley gave a friendly little wave. “Sorry, I’m a bit early.”

“Oh, don’t be.” Aziraphale smiled warmly and escorted the demon into the back room. “I’m just about finished up here, and then we can be off.”

The shop bell jingled again. Aziraphale peered through a crack in the door and scowled at two college students in band t-shirts and jeans.

“Oh, blast it. Crowley, be a dear and scare them off, would you? I’ll be with you shortly.” The angel began industriously organizing a pile of ancient manuscripts on his desk.

“Er,” Crowley mumbled, tapping his fingers together. “Scare them off how, exactly?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Turn into a snake. Or that thing with all the maggots. Whatever you like.”

“You know I hate doing that!”

“Which one?”

“Both!”

“Well just...take off your glasses and hiss at them, I don’t care. Just get them out of here.”

Crowley took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Aziraphale, do you  _ want _ to cause another cryptid flap?”

The angel looked sheepish. “Well. I mean. You have to admit that was an exciting couple of weeks, all those paranormal investigators coming through here.”

“I had to hide for a month! It was miserable!”

“Well I mean. You could have just worn something different. Dyed your hair, maybe. See what you look like as a redhead.”

Crowley shuddered. “Oh nononono. There is no way in...anywhere I am going ginger.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “What do you have against red hair, anyway?”

“Nothing  _ against _ it, it’s just not  _ me _ . Besides, it would clash horribly with my eyes. Catsup and mustard effect,  _ eyeuch _ .”

“Well...try being blond then? Can’t go wrong with blond.”

Crowley took off his sunglasses and gave the angel his best glower. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Aziraphale smirked.

The demon’s lips curled into a toothy, lopsided grin. “You know your hair’s much too gray to count as blond anyway, right?”

The angel looked a bit wounded. “Well...I mean...it’s a warm gray.”

“Sure.” It was Crowley’s turn to roll his eyes. Then he reached out to tug gently at one of Azirpahale’s curls. “I like it though, looks distinguished.”

Aziraphale rolled up a manuscript and gave the demon a good thwack on the nose.

“Yeeeowch! What was that for?”

“You know  _ very well _ what it was for.”

The shop bell jingled again.

Aziraphale brightened, and poked his head out into an empty shop. “Ah, looks like they didn’t need any scaring off after all.”

He smiled and extended his elbow to Crowley, who was still rubbing at his stinging face. “Shall we?”

Crowley sighed dramatically and took his arm. “I suppose we shall.”

“Anyway,” said the angel, leading the demon out into the noontime sun. “There’s this little cafe down the street that I’ve been dying to try. I hear they do absolutely divine things with deviled eggs.”


End file.
